


Here Comes a Thought

by Hallene



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anorexia, Crowley needs to stop being a nice demon and giving random people rides, Fluff, Gabriel is gonna catch these hands if he ever touches my boy again, M/M, Nothing hard core, TW: Eating Disorder, its not gonna kill you to walk in the rain, just a heads up, kinda sad, suck my wally gabriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 12:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20564432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallene/pseuds/Hallene
Summary: Aziraphale thinks maybe he is too soft...





	Here Comes a Thought

Aziraphale stood before the large antique mirror in his upstairs flat.

He let his eyes travel the length of his human body repeatedly. He shifted once to the left and again to the right. He tried turning in several different angles and even adjusted the lighting in the room, hoping that a softer shade would make his appearance more pleasant.

Aziraphale never felt discomfort regarding his appearance. He was an angel for Heaven’s sake! If he didn’t like anything about his body, he could change it in a flash. But that seemed to be the problem didn’t it? Aziraphale had maintained a steady appearance for nothing short of six thousand years! He liked how he looked. He liked his fluffy hair and his soft face. He enjoyed the curves of his body and how invited strangers felt by his appearance. He was the epitome of friendliness. Also, his love of food did have an impact on his belly. Never a dramatic one, no. But if he were a human, the amount he ate would certainly be more noticeable on the waistline.

He was, for all intents and purposes, a very soft man.

And he liked that! Or at least, he used to. This mess had all started just before Armageddon. Before they had broke ties with Heaven decided to focus on his true home. His home among humanity and his home with Crowley. His former superior, Gabriel, had joked that he should “_Get rid of the gut_.”

Aziraphale had shrugged it off well enough.

_Get rid of the gut?_ Absolutely not! He had spent thousands of years collecting his weight. It was the trophy of several millennia worth of the best food Humanity had to offer.

But it had been a slippery slope. It was almost as if Gabriel planted a small seed of doubt into his mind. The idea that he was _too soft_ suddenly grew like a vine and wrapped itself around Aziraphale’s self-image. This was very odd indeed. He wasn’t a human. Insecurities were not something angels dealt with. That was a human affliction.

But what had sent him off the edge, had been the events of this morning.

* * *

Aziraphale had opened the shop at noon, as he always did. It was quiet, calm, and the rain was falling steadily outside. Aziraphale relished these mornings. It was as if the world had suddenly been constricted to his small bookshop. Everything Aziraphale needed to be happy was contained in this building.

Well… almost everything.

As if in tune with his subconscious, Crowley’s Bentley pulled up next to the shop. The rain bouncing off the hood of the car gave it an ethereal glow.

Aziraphale felt a smile stretch across his face and he placed his favorite pen inside the spine of his ledger book. He stood in a hurry so he could great his lover at the door. However, he paused when he saw both doors to the Bentley open wide. Crowley stepped out of the driver side and pulled out a large umbrella before making his way over to the passenger side and opened the door. Holding the umbrella high, a young woman stepped out of the car and flashed a bright smile at Crowley. Aziraphale felt his stomach twitch unpleasantly.

She was slender and tall with long dark hair. She wore a black dress and black heels that only made her appear even thinner. She was pretty in the face and confident in stature.

He watched as she discussed something with Crowley. After a moment, he handed her the umbrella and pointed her to his bookshop. Aziraphale quickly turned away as the young ladies’ eyes followed Crowley’s finger and made eye contact with Aziraphale.

He quickly turned around and pretended to busy himself with something on the shelf. He told himself that _‘No, he was not snooping. Every shopkeeper watches people who linger outside their storefront!_’

Aziraphale heard the jingle of his shop door being opened and the young lady stepped inside. Aziraphale swallowed the jealousy in his throat and turned towards the door to greet his only customer. He tried not to notice Crowley getting back into his car and driving off.

“Good Afternoon, ma’am.” Aziraphale greeted. His voice felt slimy and fake in his mouth. He wanted nothing more than this woman to leave.

“Afternoon.” The woman answered. Her voice was clear as a bell.

“Dreadful weather we’re having?” Aziraphale lied. He loved the rain. It was his first excuse to stand closer to a certain demon.

“I quite like the rain.” The woman mentioned in a rather snide tone as she deposited the umbrella in the stand next to the door.

“I noticed you drove in with my husband, where did he go?” Crowley wasn’t his husband. But after six thousand years, he might as well be, or at least that is how he justified the claim. Aziraphale would go mad with embarrassment if Crowley found out he had just referred to him as his husband.

But the look of shock on the young lady’s face was worth it.

“Went to park the car, I believe. Anthony and I are neighbors. Funny, he never mentioned a husband.” The woman tutted softly and began browsing his shelves. Something in her voice irritatingly poked at Aziraphale.

He wasn’t explicitly lying! They have been in love for longer than her her civilization was built! How dare she talk to him like he was some lovelorn child chasing after Crowley! What a-a-well she was a proper trollop!

Aziraphale’s face was red with anger and embarrassment. He turned away swiftly and began walking towards the register.

“Well, do let me know if you need help finding anything.” He said stiffly with half a mind to just miracle the woman away. Ideally to Africa. Very far away.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for books on seduction. Specifically, ‘H_ow to Seduce your Flat Neighbor’_

Aziraphale sputtered loudly and spun to face the woman.

“Now you listen here-”

“Not quite sure why you thought the husband comment would land. Been living next to Anthony for six years, I’m sure I’d notice if he were married.”

“I assure you! We are very much involved. Now, I will have to ask you to please lea-”

“'_Involved'_ might be a bit of fantasy on your part, Love. Have you seen Anthony? He’s a proper model. You look more like you could be his… kindly brother.”

_KINDLY BROTHER?!_

Anger engulfed Aziraphale and his skin burned with indignation. He was this close to absolutely smiting this woman off the face of the Earth. He gasped loudly and stuck one finger in the woman’s face.

“Get out of my shop or so help I will-”

“You’ll what? What could a little porker like you possibly do! And get those little sausage links out of my face!”

“Angel?”

Crowley’s voice echoed the shop as the door opened with a jingle. “Are you in?”

Aziraphale glanced away from the woman to fixate his eyes on Crowley as he entered. Rain dripping off his hair and clothes. Aziraphale would normally swoon at how gorgeous he looked but right now he was in shock. The woman twirled around to greet Crowley with another large smile. Her long black hair hitting Aziraphale in the face rudely.

“Anthony! Thank you so much for the ride! Unfortunately, I didn’t find the book I was looking for. I’ll try the shop down the street. Hope you don’t mind me borrowing your umbrella for a bit? I’ll drop it off at your flat later tonight.”

“No problem, Lira. It'd be awful dreadful to walk in this rain,” Crowley answered in a somewhat disinterested manor. Aziraphale waited in a huff for Crowley to show this tart the door!

“I’ll be by tonight, I’ll bring wine!” Lira said cheerfully.

“Rather you didn’t. Keep the damn thing, I have loads.” Lira laughed as the left the shop, throwing one last pointed look at Aziraphale over her shoulder.

“Angel,” Crowley muttered walking up behind Aziraphale and hugging him gently. “How are you today, beautiful?” He muttered, placing a gently kiss bellow Aziraphale’s ear. Aziraphale sighed gently and relaxed into his hold. Best not to let a human throw his day off anyway. Besides… he trusted Crowley.

“Better now that you’re doing that,” Aziraphale muttered and Crowley chuckled. He let his fingertips glide up and down Aziraphale’s arms gently as he continued kissing and nibbling his ear. Aziraphale let his head roll to the side for better access. Normally, he would never approve of lewd behavior in the shop. But that woman got him so worked up! A small part of him wanted to say _‘Ha! See this? He does fancy me._’

But then the weirdest thing happened. Crowley let out a low moan and focused on his particularly favorite part of the angel’s neck. Kissing it deeper and biting the skin gently. Crowley’s hands traveled from his shoulders down to his hips and his fingers splayed gently across Aziraphale’s stomach. Just as they had a thousand times before. But this time, insecurity flashed through his body like a white-hot iron. A small voice in the back of Aziraphale’s mind whispered,

**_ ‘He doesn’t want you. You’re too soft, Aziraphale.’_ **

The words curled in his stomach and traveled upwards like burning acid. Aziraphale thought he might honestly throw up. He instinctively pushed Crowley’s hands away.

The demon detached himself from his angel’s neck and stepped away immediately, shooting Aziraphale a confused look.

“Everything alright, Angel?” He asked. Aziraphale plastered on a smile. It took everything Aziraphale had to quickly cover up the panic on his face.

“Everything is just tickety-boo, love! Just a bit worn is all, you know how it is.” Crowley nodded but didn’t seem entirely convinced.

“Maybe an evening out with help you recharge. I’ve got some work in the city today. Dinner tonight tho? I’ll pick you up around nine.”

Aziraphale nodded lovingly and kissed Crowley’s cheek gently as he walked him to the door.

“Tonight then, Angel,” Crowley called as he walked towards his car.

“Tonight,” Aziraphale answered weakly as he waved. He closed the door with a sigh and went to look for a mirror.

* * *

"Wine, sir?"

The waiter asked and Crowley allowed his glass to be filled with an extremely beautiful red from the early 1900s. It looked gorgeous the bouquet wafting from the bottle was intoxicating. Aziraphale felt his mouth water in anticipation. _Oh how we loved a fine wine_. But in the back of his mind, that small voice seemed to continue taking over his thoughts.

**_A lot of calories in alcohol._ **

Aziraphale felt himself grow still and sad.

The voice was right he supposed. Lots of calories in alcohol. He didn’t know why he cared about this, he was an angel. Even if he put on a bit of extra weight, he could easily miracle it away. But still… he didn’t want to look like a pig in front of Crowley or in front of the restaurant. Guzzling down bottles of alcohol like a drunk.

The waiter shifted the bottle over to his glass to pour and before he could even think, Aziraphale placed his hand above the glass.

“None for me, thanks.” Crowley eyed him suspiciously.

“Not drinking?"

“I just wanted to keep a level head tonight, if that’s alright with you,” Aziraphale muttered somewhat bitterly.

“Alright…” Crowley said, pushing a menu towards his lover. “I assume you’ll want to have starters.” He turned to the waiter. “We will have your full course menu, please.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks burned. Crowley assumed he would want as much food as possible! Normally, yes, he would agree enthusiastically. But now everything seemed to click in a way that he knew was wrong.

_ **'He thinks you’re greedy. He’s used to this. Used to you eating everything in sight!'** _

Aziraphale huffed loudly and pushed the menu away from him.

“You assumed wrong. I’ll just take a salad please.”

“A salad? But you were just rattling on last week about the Ritz’ guest chef!”

“Well, I am not very hungry.”

“Aziraphale, that’s nonsense. You love to eat.”

Aziraphale felt such shame hit him like a tidal wave. A sensation that he has never felt before. It was so overwhelming, the idea of eating right now sounded horrifying. He took his cloth napkin from his lap and placed it on the pristine plate in front of him.

“Actually, what I would love is to go home right now.” He grabbed his pocketbook and handed the waiter the first bill he grabbed for his troubles and started towards the door.

“We haven’t even eaten yet!” Crowley called after him. Aziraphale huffed loudly and didn’t turn back.

“I said I am not hungry!”

* * *

The next morning, Aziraphale spent more time in front of his mirror. Almost an hour until opening time and he was still observing himself. His hands tracing the soft curves of his body.

_Maybe... I should get rid of it. Just to see how I like it?_

_ **Do it. You’ll be so much better. He'll like you so much more.** _

Aziraphale didn’t think twice. With a quick hand movement and an even quicker miracle, his stomach went away. A flat, thin physique left in its wake. Almost too thin. He was lacking in his classic softness. The angles of his hips were far too soft. He felt an immediate and immense sadness at seeing his torso flat. He didn’t look…quite like himself. However, at the same time, a voice whispered in the back of his head.

** _You looked like Crowley’s kindly brother. Certainly not his lover. You’re more attractive like this. _ **

Yeah… he was better this way.

Aziraphale changed his clothes before he could change his mind. He noticed how he had to miracle his entire outfit just to get it to fit. Such a shame as well, because each of his clothing articles had been expertly tailored to fit him. The old him at least. And well, miracles are miracles, but they weren’t the masterly trained hands of a seamstress.

As Aziraphale finished up his alterations, he heard Crowley’s voice from the bottom of the stairs.

* * *

When Crowley woke up the next morning, he felt a heavy weight on his chest. He wasn’t exactly sure what he did to piss off his angel so badly. The evening started like every other dinner they had! He had planned on an entire evening of lavishing his angel in the best possible food, the finest wines, the most gentle touches and hopefully some kissing later at the shop. All of that took a proper swan dive not even five minutes into the meal.

Crowley had watched in astonishment as Aziraphale stormed from the restaurant. The roomful of people falling silent over what looked like a dramatic lovers’ quarrel. After Crowley recovered from his shock he stood up as well.

_“What are you lot looking at? Finish your damned food!”_

Crowley had exclaimed before ‘demonically intervening’ their memories of the event away. Crowley grumbled to himself as he had slammed a hundred-pound note on the table for the wine and left.

In Crowley’s experience, the best way to cheer Aziraphale up was with his favorite creature comforts. On his way to the shop, he stopped in at the angel’s favorite bakery. He liked to come here on their walks together. Countless afternoons have been spent behind this counter with Aziraphale being showered in samples by the owner. He would moan softly when he ate and hold out the other half and insisting, _‘Good Lord, Crowley. You absolutely must try this.'_

Crowley would much rather just watch him eat the rest of it.

Watching Aziraphale eat felt like sleeping in pools of sunshine. It was almost as if Crowley could absorb the happiness radiating off him. It was a truly addictive experience and one of Crowley’s favorite pass times.

“Anthony?” A voice rang behind him. Crowley turned around to spot his neighbor, Lira, holding a takeaway bag with the bakery’s famous bagels.

“Lira, how are you today?” Crowley said politely, going back to eyeing the selection. Looking for something that would sweeten his angel’s tooth.

“I’m well! I stopped by to return your umbrella last night. Didn’t get an answer tho. You must have been working late.”

Oh, Crowley had heard the woman knocking on his door. Obnoxiously loudly, might he add. He deliberately ignored it. While he liked to maintain a polite relationship with his neighbors, Lira seemed to insist on being ‘_all up in his business_’ as the modern kids called it.

He grunted in acknowledgment as he tried to wave down an associate to place his order. Lira seemed to notice his disinterest and shifted her weight to the side in an uncomfortable manner.

“Maybe… I should try again tonight?”

“No, Lira, I don’t think you should,” Crowley answered mockingly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He only had so much patience for lusting mortal women. Lira huffed.

“You know, if you’re not interested in me you could just say so.”

“I’m not interested in you.” Crowley deadpanned.

Finally, he managed to flag down an associate and pointed out the pastries he wanted. Lira hadn’t moved from her position. Crowley didn’t know if it was stubbornness or shock. Frankly, he didn’t care.

“Anything else I can do for you? No? Great. Keep the umbrella. Ciao.”

Lira’s face turned red and she stepped in between Crowley and the register.

“Is this because of that pudgy shop keeper? Did he tell you gossip about me?” Crowley felt a rage seep through his veins and stepped quickly towards Lira. Deliberately entering her personal space and being as intimidating as possible. Crowley’s face darkened and his demonic aura filled the room. Lira’s eyes widened as she took a deft step backward.

“What did you just say, human?” he spat dangerously.

Lira shook where she stood and grabbed the strap of her bag defensively.

“Y-you know! He’s a liar! He said you were his husband! He’s obsessed with you, it’s disgusting!”

“I am his husband. Now fuck off.”

Lira looked as if she didn’t know to be angry or scared. Instead, she turned away and walked briskly out the door.

Crowley sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. What an absolute nutcase that woman was… Crowley slapped a ten-pound bill on the counter and grabbed the to-go bag, quickly making his way to Aziraphale’s shop.

* * *

Aziraphale was starving. Well, not really. Angel’s don’t starve. But he felt empty. He hadn’t eaten a single thing since yesterday’s breakfast. When he returned home last night, he miracled away all his food in a fit of anger. And then he had miracled away his lovely stomach…Next, he will just might make all of his books disappear and truly suffer.

But now that anger had sizzled into something akin to guilt. He hadn’t meant to leave Crowley at the Ritz. He hadn’t meant to storm off in a huff. He hadn’t meant to lose his lovely pudge. He just wanted to feel normal again… what on Earth was wrong with him.

Aziraphale sighed and rubbed his head, tiredly. He was feeling too many emotions far too quickly.

“Angel?”

Crowley’s voice drifted over Aziraphale’s ears like honey. Now was a proper time to apologize. He threw a sweater over his shoulders and made his way to the stairs leading down into the shop. He opened the door only to find Crowley standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Their eyes met briefly, and Crowley immediately noticed the weight that he had miracled off.

“Why do you look like that?”

“I just wanted to change my look. Go with something more…slimming, I suppose.”

Crowley looked absolutely beside himself. What on earth was his angel thinking? Six thousand years of existence in the Mortal realm and Aziraphale had shown nothing but soft and gross affection for his appearance. He was currently battling several conflicted feelings and it showed on his face. It’s not that Crowley particularly cared if Aziraphale decided to change his appearance.

Well, that was a lie. The angel’s consistency throughout history was an anchor in Crowley’s life. But anchor or not, it wasn’t his place to tell the angel what he should and should not look like. But Crowley was no idiot.

He knew Aziraphale like he knew the 'Screams of Hell'. It was seared into his very being. He knew what his angel was like when he fancied something. He knew how his face contorted with joy when he spotted a particularly stylish waistcoat in a shop window. Or when he had just eaten a surprisingly tasty food. It was Aziraphale’s angelic aura of fondness. Crowley had seen that same fondness directed at himself from time to time. But this…this wasn’t fondness.

This was something mortal and anxiety laced. It was shame. As a demon, inciting shame was one of his natural pleasures. But when it weaved its way into his love’s gentle face, he felt like turning towards the nearest small object and launching it into orbit. Good thing Aziraphale doesn’t have any pets.

Crowley took a hesitant step up the stairs. “Don’t lie to me, Aziraphale.”

It wasn’t a warning, nor was it a plead.

Aziraphale hesitated and glanced down at his newly reshaped body and back to Crowley. He opened his mouth to explain himself. He wanted to open up to Crowley! To tell him of this horrific sensation he had been feeling. He wanted Crowley to understand and listen. He wanted Crowley to rush up the stairs and hold him in his arms. He wanted to give Crowley his words…but words failed him as they often did.

Over the course of a few minutes, Aziraphale tried and failed to explain himself.

“Do you need some assistance?”

Crowley hated putting words in the angel’s mouth. It probably wasn’t a healthy habit they had developed. However, he knew his angel inside and out and he knew what he was trying to say.

Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley took another step up the stairs.

“That woman said something to you. My neighbor, Lira. The other day when I dropped her off in the rain.”

Aziraphale nodded once more and Crowley took another step. “Love, you’re over six thousand years old. If every time a mortal said outrageous comments to you, you’d be discorporated by now. So, it was something else. Something deeper, that it fed into.”

Aziraphale looked up and felt emboldened. Now that Crowley had started the conversation, he felt more at ease to contribute.

“It started with Gabriel.”

Crowley listened intently and walked up the stairs slowly. Almost as if to not startle Aziraphale.

“He told me… I was soft. And I am soft...” Crowley swore he almost heard a sniffle.

“The softest, my love.” Crowley crooned. Now only a few steps from him.

“And I always loved being soft! But it was like… I don’t know. He planted something inside of my head. And it’s been growing. And no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of it. It’s like a voice. Or a sound in the background of a room. Unnoticeable at first, but as soon as you pay attention to it, it becomes overwhelmingly loud.”

Crowley was directly in front of him now. Standing in the entryway of the second level flat. He didn’t want to interrupt Aziraphale, instead, he reached out and gently grabbed the angel’s hand.

He nodded as if encouraging him to continue.

“The other day, that woman told me I wasn’t fit to...stand beside you.”

Crowley felt himself let out a low involuntary hiss at the suggestion. He should have done more than just scare that woman.

Aziraphale chuckled at his reaction and glanced away.

“_Oh, hush you._ But yes, ever since then. That small voice has gotten louder. I know that you love me no matter what I look like…but I wanted to feel like I used to feel when standing beside you. I thought maybe this would help.”

“Did it?”

“No.”

Aziraphale's stare could have burned holes in the floorboards between their feet. Crowley felt his insides melt. He squeezed his angel’s hand and let his other hand cradle his face gently, pulling his eyes up to meet his own. Crowley let his thumb stroked the angel’s face in a lazy motion. He searched his angel’s eyes. Soft and warm pools of honey hazel.

“Can I kiss you, Angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes began to water.

“Please.”

Crowley caught the angel’s lips softly. Pulling his face close and moving Aziraphale’s hand towards his hips so he could wrap his now free arm around Aziraphale’s neck. It was a soft kiss and it only lasted for a second before Crowley felt it.

It was like lightning traveling between them, but dark and angry. It shot through Crowley’s limbs and back out again. His eyes opened wide at the intrusion and he pulled away softly. Aziraphale looked at him questionably.

“I felt it.” He breathed.

“Yes, they are real lips. I would hope you could.”

“Not that, snark bastard. That feeling you were talking about.”

“You felt…my emotions?”

“Not an emotion. Or perhaps, it might be an emotion. But it’s not yours.” Crowley knew this magic well. He used often when spreading dissent across the populous. It was a tactic widely used on humans by demons. But never on angels. Crowley would have thought it would be impossible to use one on an angel!

“Let me try something, Angel?” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale nodded, his eyes were an ocean of trust.

Crowley lifted a single finger and pressed it against the angel’s temple. At first, it was a feather’s touch. He applied more pressure, not enough to hurt, but enough to get a good grasp on the wiggly devil. He felt it latch onto his demonic aura like a fish on bait. And he pulled it out.

It came out of Aziraphale’s temple like a worm made of thick black smoke and dripping tar. Thrashing and whispering in quiet screams. Aziraphale’s eyes went wide like saucers but he didn’t dare move.

“Crowley, what in God’s name is that.”

Crowley’s brow furrowed in concentration as he pulled the entire creature from Aziraphale’s head and held it at arm’s length.

“It's an Intrusive Thought,” Crowley muttered.

He observed the Intrusive Thought with disbelief before igniting it and letting it dissipate from the mortal plane.

“What is an Intrusive Thought?” Aziraphale exclaimed, looking horrified as the ashes fell to the floor. He'd have to clean that later.

“Demons use them to tempt humans. It weakens them over time. Also acts as a feeding source for mental disability…But you’re…an angel. How on Earth did one manage to worm its way into you?”

_“_

_Oh, and, lose the gut?” Gabriel said jokingly but poked his stomach before running off._

“It couldn’t have been…” Aziraphale trailed off.

“_You know?_” Crowley hissed quietly, “Tell me their name. I’ll disembowel them.”

“You’ll have a hard time disemboweling the Archangel, Gabriel.” Aziraphale mentioned.

Crowley seethed where he stood. The antique wooden floorboards sizzled and popped beneath his feet.

“Gabriel. I can only guess where the bastard got his hands on one.” He said the archangel's name like a bad taste. “What a fucking…. A fucking… he’s such a… a-“

“Snake?” Aziraphale finished with a grin.

“That’s offensive.”

“Don’t give any attention to Gabriel, my dearest. This is such an underhanded thing for him to pull. But Heaven and Hell… they aren’t a part of our lives anymore. And honestly? I feel so much better already. I’d rather we just… go grab some lunch? And we can discuss it later? I am famished.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley with pleading eyes and Crowley looked away quickly with a blush. The sneaky angel knew he couldn’t resist that face.

“The Ritz?” Crowley suggested,

“The guest chef you were on about is still there for the rest of the week.”

“I’m shivering in anticipation!” Crowley smiled gently and wrapped the angel in his arms once more.

An Intrusive Thought… in his angel? Crowley tucked the Angel's head under his chin. His one and only love had been fighting it since _'the apocalypse that was not the apocalypse'_. Crowley had been none the wiser. He felt a cocktail of negative emotions; guilt, anger, fear, and regret. But his angel was safe right now. They both were. Crowley swore to himself he would do better in the future. He would be stronger for both of them.

“Angel… did you tell that woman we were married?”

Aziraphale went still in Crowley’s arms.

“I- _well_, I didn’t say. I can’t quite recall, I mean- _no_\- not-_I didn’t-_“

Crowley brought the stammering angel’s lips up to meet his own in a passionate kiss. Tasting his angel on his tongue and inhaling his scent. Pressing into him to try and absorb everything about his lover. The angel seemed to relax at the contact and let his lips move gently against the demon’s own. Crowley parted but rested his forehead against Aziraphale. Trying to convey all of his love with his touch.

“I suppose we should get on with a wedding then.”

Aziraphale smiled so brightly, Crowley was glad he was still wearing his sunglasses.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first Good Omens fic! Please let me know what you thought and also what I should write about these two doing next! I'll definitely be writing more one shots between these two idiots.


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